


untitled ficlets (slash)

by wraith816



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraith816/pseuds/wraith816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fifteen ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled ficlets (slash)

**Author's Note:**

> A variety of short pieces written for prompts from stargatefic100 on LJ. There's a mix of pre-slash, humor, angst, and episode tags, among other things.

**Beginnings**

So this is how it starts.

Daniel won't take no for an answer, not that he ever does, not when it matters. He ignores all of Jack's protests, leans in, and kisses him, just kisses him cool and easy like he's been doing it since the beginning. Daniel's mouth is warm and wet and way too sure, and Jack knows that he's supposed to be the rational one tonight, supposed to pull away and list all the reasons they can't do this: the team, the military, their friendship. Jack knows this, but damn, he wishes he could forget it.

Like he knows just what Jack is thinking, Daniel breaks the kiss and says, "You want this; I want this. Just let it be that simple." Daniel takes Jack's hand, pulls him up off the couch and towards the hall. "Bedroom."

Jack stops and stares at Daniel, but doesn't let go of his hand. "So, we're doing this?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Jack knows there's no use arguing with Daniel when he's like this. Jack's convinced, not that he needed much convincing, anyway. He smiles. "So, do I ever get to make a decision ever again?"

"You can choose who bottoms. Come on."

He tugs at Jack's hand again, and Jack follows.

 

 **Not Enough**

When Daniel kisses, he does it with his whole body. He presses up against Jack like he wants to share skin; he keeps his hands moving like he can't bear to leave any inch of Jack untouched. Daniel wraps himself around Jack 'til they're nothing but a tangle of heat and movement. He chases Jack's tongue with his own, mixing tastes of beer and coffee and them. Daniel kisses just like he does everything else: with all of his fire and determination, with a single-minded thoroughness, with challenge and tease and maybe just a little bit of arrogance.

Jack takes it all in, takes in _Daniel_ , and tries to pull him impossibly closer.

 

 **Choices**

The way I look at it, I've got three options right now.

I can forget about the whole thing. Turn around and go back home. That's probably the best idea. No chance of losing Daniel's friendship or my job. No agonizing over how to tell Daniel I've developed some less-than-appropriate feelings for him. No scary self-discovery over the 'I'm bisexual and never did anything about it' thing. The easy way out, but I'm not necessarily adverse to that.

I can wait on it. I won't be doing the military thing forever, and when I retire, I'm a free man. I can wait 'til my knees give out, wave bye-bye to the Air Force, and come out with it. Okay, bad choice of words there, but still...

Or, I can tell Daniel I'm in love with him, probably committing career suicide and possibly fucking up a good friendship in the process. I'm not gonna even let myself think about what might happen if he feels at all the same.

So, three options, each crazier than the last. It should be a difficult decision, but it's not. I know what I'm gonna do. It's the consequences that'll be hard to live with.

I knock on Daniel's door, and he answers it after a minute. He's smiling, happy to see me, I hope.

"Jack, what's up?

"Hey, Daniel..."

 

 **How?**

"Oh, there is no way in hell."

"There's no way in hell what?" Daniel asked as he came into the living room and sat on the couch beside Jack.

"This." Jack gestured to the book in his hands. "Neither of us is this flexible, for crying out loud."

Daniel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. When Jack took the initiative to read through the 'how to' guides on gay sex that Daniel had bought, it sometimes lead to some definite fun in the bedroom, on the couch, and, on one memorable occasion, over the kitchen table. Other times, well, it just meant some really weird, and potentially embarrassing, conversation.

"Well Jack, I'm devastated. Completely disappointed that we can't get into that one totally ridiculous position you picked from the back of the book because of your bum knees."

"Hey, I didn't say it was 'cause of my knees! You wouldn't be able to bend like that either."

"Jack, next time, don't skip ahead, please? It's easier on my sanity."

 

 **Death**

The first time Jack kills for him, _on his orders_ , Daniel knows he's won.

It's easy in the end, maybe too easy - victory with a kiss and murmured promises - but still, Daniel takes pride in knowing that Jack is well and truly his, even if Jack will never recognize it. The death of a Goa'uld mothership is the beginning. He can do more. Jack's never liked the Russians, and Daniel can use that, especially since the Russians and Chinese are causing trouble. From there, it's not a far step to everything, to forever.

He presses his body against Jack's back, winds an arm around Jack's stomach to keep him in place as they watch the satellite feed of the mothership's destruction: power and light and fire. "Very good," he praises, and kisses Jack's neck just to feel his lips against the thrum of Jack's pulse.

"What next?" Jack asks, the old challenge still there in his voice.

"We’ll see."

 

 **He**

And this should probably be the point where Jack starts to freak out. Because it's one thing to admit to himself that he has feelings for Daniel, probably even loves him, not that Jack will admit it yet. But it's an entirely different thing to stand here and let Daniel kiss him.

Entirely different to feel such wide hands moving up and down his back. To feel the scratch of stubble and a flat chest pressing up against his and such force in a kiss. To know that Daniel can match him strength for strength. Entirely different to kiss a guy. Definite freak out material there.

But it's Daniel, who's been teammate, friend, beloved. It's Daniel, and it's right, and Jack lets go.

 

 **Sound**

Someone's at the door, Jack can hear. A key turns in the lock with a soft snick, and he knows it's Daniel. He hears the door open – the hinge is squeaking some; he'll have to deal with that soon – and close again a moment later. Fabric hits fabric, Daniel tossing his jacket on the couch, maybe, and a jingle as his keys follow. Footsteps over slightly creaking floorboards as Daniel walks down the hallway and in through the open bedroom door. More soft fabric sounds as Daniel begins to shed his clothes.

"Hey," Jack mumbles, and turns on his side to face Daniel.

"Oh, hey, you’re awake."

"Heard you come in. How was PX-whatever?"

"Mm, interesting. Nice people. Some potential new antibiotics. You'll hear all about in the briefing tomorrow."

"Lovely. I look forward to it."

The sheets rustle as Daniel gets in bed and curls up behind Jack. He wraps an arm around Jack's middle, and sighs sleepily. "G'night."

"Night, Daniel."

It isn't long before Daniel’s snoring softly, and Jack's asleep again moments later.

 

 **Hours**

It's been forty-one hours since Jack's fingers had clutched at Daniel's hair, since Jack's low moans had urged Daniel to _harderfastermore_. Forty-one hours since the feel of sweat-slick skin against skin and mouths meeting sloppy with spit and strong hips thrusting.

Thirty-two hours since Daniel had stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning. Since he had stolen the cup of coffee right out of Jack's hand. Had apologized with a mint toothpaste fresh kiss and a smile. Since Jack grumbled good-naturedly and poured himself a replacement mug.

Twenty-nine hours since the locker room, where Daniel had caught Jack not-so-subtly leering at him while they geared up. Had rolled his eyes and made a crack about Jack's one-track mind.

Twenty-seven hours since the wormhole. Since they successfully made contact with the locals and started on the standard meet-and-greet.

Sixteen hours since the government's representative showed SG-1 to their rooms for the night.

Seven hours since the morning; five hours since SG-1 took the offered tour of the surrounding city. Since Daniel declined and stayed to talk to their contact.

Two hours since they came back, since Daniel rushed to the infirmary, demanding that no one touch him.

And it's been one moment since Daniel listed off the grisly symptoms to come: blood and pain with no way out. One moment since he told Jack, "And based on the dose of radiation I got, all that will happen in the next ten to fifteen hours."

 

 **Colorless**

He doesn't see anymore, at least not in the physical sense, and not in any way that he'd be able to explain. He just...knows. Feels it. Feels the shape and form of things, their colors in his being. But he doesn't _see_ them.

Not that Daniel needs to see, really, what with the whole ascension thing. But he misses it, sometimes. It would be nice, real nice for when he visits Jack. The one thing from his old life that he'll never be able to fully let go. Maybe it's wrong of him, not the _enlightened_ thing to do, but Daniel 'watches' Jack, whenever he can.

He follows Jack off-world, on base, at home; his one connection to what he left behind. He feels the texture and shape of Jack, like he does everything. But it's not the same. Not the same thing as really seeing the warmth of Jack's brown eyes when he smiles. Or the gray of his hair. Or his tanned skin covered in cooling sweat as they lay in bed together.

Sometimes Daniel thinks those are the things he misses the most.

 

 **Blue**

When Jack dreams, he dreams in blue, always the same things. A cockpit and a clear sky rushing past, going way on into forever and yet close enough that it seems like he could reach out and touch it. His Class A's, all propriety and pride. The first time he put them on, and the last time he's taken them off. The shimmer of a wormhole event horizon, like water catching the sunlight from overhead.

And in the mornings, Daniel kisses him awake, wet and lazy against his throat, his shoulder, across the line of his jaw. A quick, chaste kiss at his lips, mindful of shared morning breath. Daniel pulls back, gets up off the bed and towards the bathroom. Looks back at the bed with smile and invitation in his eyes. "Shower?"

"Go ahead, I'll be there in a second," Jack answers. He stretches and yawns, and slides out of bed. He follows Daniel, and doesn't think about the price for this.

 

 **Red**

"I take it that you enjoyed your stay on PJ6-787, Colonel?"

"Oh yeah. Beaches for _miles_ , Doc. If Daniel and I had to be stranded off-world for a week, that was the best place we coulda had."

Fraiser hung her stethoscope back around her neck and said, "Well, everything's fine, other than that sunburn. That looks pretty nasty."

"Yeah, it is."

"Your sun block didn't help?"

"Uh, no. Not really."

"While you were gone, Sam told me that '787 has very strong sunlight, so it figures. We're done here, so you're free to go. Have a good weekend, Colonel."

Jack hopped off the infirmary bed and headed for the exit, tossing a wave and a, "You, too," back at Fraiser. A couple of hallways and an elevator ride later, he strolled into Daniel's office, where Daniel sat at his desk, staring intently at his computer. Daniel was just as sunburned as Jack, his face a nice, bright shade of red.

"Hey."

Daniel looked up from his work. "Oh, hey."

"You almost ready to get outta here?"

"Just finishing up my report. So, did Janet mention your sunburn?"

"Ah, yeah. Crap, this stings like hell."

"Yeah." Daniel gave a quick glance to the door, and seeing that it was closed, he whispered, "Well, it's what we get for using all the sun block as lube."

 

 **Air**

So Jack may be asleep, curled up in a ball and leaning back against the bulkhead, blanket draped across his shoulders, but Daniel can't seem to leave his side. With Sam up in the front talking to her father, and Teal'c meditating on the other side of the cargo hold, Daniel's got far too much time for thinking about all the _almosts_ that nearly were. He watches the rise and fall of Jack's chest like it’s the only thing he can see anymore. And maybe it is.

"Hey." Jack’s awake, and considering Daniel with sleepy eyes.

"Hey. Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"I'm _fine_ , Daniel." Jack uncrosses his arms and sets his hand on the floor next to Daniel's so that they're just barely touching. And Daniel thinks that maybe he's not imagining how cold Jack's skin still feels, or how desperate each of Jack's breaths still sound. Jack must know what Daniel's thinking, because he covers Daniel’s hand with his own.

And just like that, Daniel can breathe again.

 

 **Taste**

"SG-1's scheduled contact?"

"Yes, sir. We have audio and video feed from the MALP. It's Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson."

Hammond glanced at the monitor; O'Neill and Jackson appeared to be in good physical condition, and neither seemed to be under any duress. Both good signs. He leaned in towards the microphone and said, "Gentleman?"

"Ah, yes, hello, General. We've got a bit of a situation here, but it's nothing we can't handle."

"What sort of situation, Colonel?"

Doctor Jackson answered for him, "Uh, sir, it appears that the natives are demanding that Jack and I participate in their, uh...sacred fertility rite."

Hammond stared at the MALP images, puzzled. "I thought your earlier report stated that the inhabitants of P4C-929 are primitive to the point of non-communication."

"Um, yes General, I did say that. I guess I was...wrong. They're adamant that Jack and I have sex, you see. Very adamant. It's the only way they'll let us go home."

"Colonel, do you concur with Doctor Jackson’s assessment of the situation?"

"Yes sir. Completely."

Hammond sighed. "We're going to have to be more careful in our evaluations of possible missions. I'm having trouble keeping these kinds of incidents out of the official reports."

"Yes sir. We'll take it into consideration in the future. But for now, we need all of the regular supplies for this kinda situation, as fast as you can get them here. And some other stuff. Daniel?"

"Ah, yes. We need: two pairs of padded handcuffs, some Cool Whip, Jack's dress uniform, an extra box of condoms, my video camera, three silk scarves, a pint of ice cream, two cock rings, and a banana."

"And sir," O’Neill chimed in, "can you please make sure that it's the strawberry flavored lube they send through this time? Daniel wasn't fond of the cherry."

 

 **Independence**

"You need anything? A drink? More painkillers?" Jack called from the kitchen.

Daniel settled himself on the couch and answered, "It's just a sprained wrist. I’m fine."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before. Here, take these." Jack came into the room with a glass of water, which he put on the coffee table, and some pills that he pressed into Daniel's palm.

"I can take care of myself, you know." Daniel rolled his eyes, but took the pills anyway.

"Uh huh. Right. Sure." Jack's fond smile took the sting out of his words. "I don't know what you ever did before we got together."

Daniel glared. "I masturbated. A lot. Which is what you'll have to resort to if you don't stop babying me."

Jack's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would."

"Okay, okay. You can take care of yourself. I know."

"Good. If the military taught you anything, it was when to make a retreat."

 

 **Dinner**

Dinner at Jack's is a routine long ago established, etched into habit by time; something comfortable, familiar, started before they even really knew each other, and evolving ever since. Sometimes Daniel thinks of it as their first step towards the inevitable, the start of this thing they dance around.

Daniel comes early, like always. He knocks, and when there's no immediate answer, he doesn't hesitate to let himself in with the key Jack gave him, just like he's been doing for years. Once inside, he takes off his shoes and hangs his jacket in the hall closet like it belongs there.

"In here," Jack calls from the kitchen, not that Daniel expects him to be anywhere else. Jack is still cooking dinner, if boiling pasta and heating up store-bought sauce can really be called cooking. "You can stick the beer in the fridge."

"There's room in there? You actually cleaned it out? I'm impressed," Daniel says as he opens the refrigerator and sets his regular contribution to the night – a case of the only brand they can agree on – down on the bottom shelf. Jack doesn't ask for help, but he doesn't need to by now; Daniel does it automatically, sifting through the refrigerator drawers in search of salad fixings. He makes his way around the kitchen easily, as at home there as in his own.

And if he works right in Jack's space, brushes against Jack more than he used to – and just a little more often than to be by accident – well, neither of them mentions it. Just like they don't talk about how blatantly Jack watches Daniel all through dinner, or how it seems to be Jack's turn to be in Daniel's space as they clean up everything. And after dinner, how Jack doesn't say anything when Daniel sits right next to him on the couch, close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Close enough that Daniel can feel Jack's warmth through their clothes; close enough that his intentions can't be misinterpreted. Closer than Daniel's gotten before. Another move forward.

And Daniel says yes each time Jack asks, "D'you want another beer?" He knows Jack will let him stay the night, just like he knows his name, where he lives. It's automatic, given. He's stayed the night more often, recently. Soon, he's buzzed on the alcohol and the feel of Jack so close next to him. He wants to kiss Jack, to feel that mouth against his, to slip his tongue inside and taste his fill. He wants to do more than just kiss. He wants to know what Jack likes, how Jack likes to be touched. He wants to know all of Jack.

He wonders who will be the first to crack, to take this to its natural conclusion. Maybe it'll be Jack. Maybe he'll tell, finally. Get up the nerve to admit that he wants what Daniel's got to offer. Admit that he might not be completely straight. Daniel doubts it; it's more of a step than Jack's willing to take, at least any time soon. Maybe Daniel will call Jack on it, someday. Ask about the heated looks and lingering touches and this something between them that marches ever onward. Maybe he'll be the one to take them there.

"Hey, you've had a few; you gonna crash in the guest room?" Jack asks.

And all those _I wants_ are on the tip of Daniel's tongue; they would be so easy to say. But he swallows them and answers, "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Maybe someday he'll move them forward, but it won't be today.


End file.
